


Supply and Demand

by prettyapathetic



Category: Gotham (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Historical, Angst, Canon-Typical Violence, Gay Bashing, Homophobia, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Mild Sexual Content, Mystery
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-15
Updated: 2016-09-24
Packaged: 2018-08-09 00:35:27
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 7
Words: 19,473
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7780027
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/prettyapathetic/pseuds/prettyapathetic
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It’s 1947 and Jim Gordon has recently moved back to Gotham to open his own Private Detective Agency. Little does he know just how rough his first case is going to be, and just how rewarding.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This was written for Slashorific 2016 on LJ and Dreamwidth. This year's theme was Decades. I chose to work in the quote I am like any other man. All I do is supply a demand - Al Capone.
> 
>  
> 
> My first ever attempt at AU or a period piece and my first successful completion of a multi-chapter fic so hopefully it came out alright. I attempted to throw in period appropriate slang every now and then, but I’m not sure if it worked. It's also inspired by my love of hardboiled detectives and noir, but Jim is anything but hardboiled here. All the thanks in the world go to my wonderful beta dysfunkshunell1. All remaining mistakes are my own. Enjoy!

Jim Gordon lounged back in his slightly used desk chair, put his feet up on his new to him desk and smiled. Finally, after many years hard work, he’d been able to open his own detective agency.

His whole life, Jim had dreamed of being a cop, but as he’d gotten older, he’d realized that there were far too many obstacles standing in the way of the Gotham City Police Department. He wanted to help protect and clean up the city, but he’d seen evidence too many times of how easy it was for the criminal element to get past all the rules the cops had to follow. Instead, Jim had decided to go for his private investigators license. All of that had been put on hold in December of 1941. 

Jim had signed up to defend his country the moment he’d found out about the attack on Pearl Harbour. He’d only been 19, but he’d never wanted to do anything more in his life. He’d thought, in addition to defending his country, and doing the right thing, that it would make him a man, would make his father proud. He hadn’t been wrong, but he hadn’t been exactly right either. He was definitely proud for having served and defended his country, and he’d most definitely come back a man, but not quite in the way he had expected. 

Now, despite all that, he really just wanted to put it all behind him and get on with his life.

It had taken him two years to save up enough money to open his own business, and now he was determined to make a name for himself. He’d put a daily ad in the newspaper and even shelled out for an ad on the radio. Now he just had to hope he’d catch a case.

Thankfully, he didn’t have to wait long. 

***

It was just before noon, and Jim was just starting to think about lunch when he heard the chime ring on the front door to his office.

Jim stood as a beautiful, leggy, blonde entered. She wore a bright blue dress that cut to her small waist perfectly and was accentuated by a navy blue belt. She also wore a navy blue, beret-style hat and carried a matching purse and gloves.

“Mr. Gordon?” she inquired, her voice cracking as if she were holding back tears. “I’m Barbara Kean and I’m in desperate need of your services.”

Jim’s eyes widened slightly at the mention of the woman’s last name. The Kean’s were a famous old family in Gotham. He might actually make some greenbacks on his first case. “Of course, Ms. Kean, how can I help?” he replied, gesturing for her to sit in the chair on the other side of his desk.

Once seated, she pulled a handkerchief from her purse and dabbed it to the corners of her eyes. “It’s my brother, Peter, Mr. Gordon, he’s missing.”

Jim retrieved a notepad and a pencil and looked intently at the woman sitting across from him. “Okay Ms Kean, let’s start from the beginning.”

***

A few hours later, Jim was sitting alone in his office again, going over the notes he’d taken while speaking with Ms. Kean. While they had been talking, he’d gotten the distinct impression that she’d been flirting with him, but he couldn’t be sure. He’d had his fair share of dates, but recently any offers that had come up had just made him feel awkward and uncomfortable. This instance was no different. He’d ushered her out of the office, promising to keep her updated on anything he found out about her brother.

Once she was gone, he could finally think. Apparently, Peter had worked as a bartender at an underground club called The Cool Kitty. Why it was underground, she didn’t seem to know, or at least wasn’t going to tell him. She did, however, tell him that she was the only one he’d confided in about where he was employed. It seemed as though their strict Catholic parents wouldn’t have approved of him serving the devil’s fuel to the public. Thankfully, she did have the address, and even luckier, it was only a couple of blocks away from Jim’s office. Jim made plans to check it out that night.

In the meantime, he wanted to find out what he would be walking into that night. Thankfully, an old army buddy of Jim’s was now a detective for the GCPD. He grabbed his jacket and headed out.

 

***

“Jimbo! What the hell are you doing here, man?” Detective Harvey Bullock greeted Jim with a smile and a strong clap on the shoulder.

“Hey, Harv,” Jim responded a bit sheepishly. Despite living in the same city, it had been a long time since Jim had gone to see the detective and even now he was only there to ask him a favour. Ah, guilt. Jim’s true best friend. “I kinda need a favour.”

Harvey chuckled and rolled his eyes as he lead Jim over to his desk. “And here I was thinking you didn’t like us flatfoots! So, what do I get in return for this favour?” 

“I don’t know, what do you want?”

Harvey sighed and shook his head as he sat down, motioning for Jim to do the same in the empty chair next to his desk. “I suppose I should find out what the favour is before I start making my demands.”

Jim just shrugged, taking the offered seat before starting to explain. “I got my first P.I. case. Client’s got me sniffin’ around a club called The Cool Kitty. Word is that it’s underground for some reason, but I don’t know anything more than that. I was hoping you might have the scoop on what’s up.”

Harvey let out a long slow whistle and leaned back in his chair. “Wow kid, you really don’t know what you’ve gotten yourself into, do you?”

Well, this case might just be more interesting than he originally thought. Sure, the idea that he’d have to check out some hidden club was intriguing, but it took a lot to shake the hardened detective in front of him.

“Clearly I don’t,” Jim replied, arching an eyebrow at Harvey. “Mind filling me in?”

Harvey sighed and rubbed a hand over his face. “It’s a fruity club Jim. You know, for the gays?”

Now that was a surprise, and somehow it just made Jim even more interested in this case. He’d never admitted it to anyone else, not even really to himself, but he was curious. Women had always seemed boring to him. He’d dated a few here and there, even went all the way with his high school sweetheart before going off to war, but afterwards, he’d just wondered what all the fuss was about.

“Oh no, Jimbo, don’t man. You know what could happen if this case goes wrong for you.”

And Jim did know, but even if he hadn’t been curious, he couldn’t go back now. He’d promised Ms. Kean that he’d help find her brother, and he couldn’t change his mind now. He looked thoughtful for a moment before glancing up at Harvey, giving him his best innocent look.

A low groan escaped Harvey then. “Okay fine, you fathead. At least tell me you’re not going dressed like that.”

“Hey! What’s wrong with what I’m wearing?” Jim actually looked offended, causing Harvey to laugh.

“Look Jim, I don’t pretend to know much about how people dress, but I’m pretty sure if you’re going out for a night on the town at a club for fruits, they you should probably get decked out in some classier duds.”

Jim looked down at the admittedly cheap, but comfortable brown suit with matching brown tie that was his go-to suit and frowned. “C’mon Harv, it’s not like I have the lettuce to shell out for a new suit.”

“I can’t believe I’m doing this,” Harvey muttered to himself. “Meet me at my place around seven. I think I can help you out. Also, you’re going to need this.” Harvey rummaged around in his desk for a second before pulling out an ordinary looking players card. He handed it to Jim who turned it over in his hands, looking a confused.

“Show it at the door,” Harvey answered Jim’s silent question. One day soon, Jim was going to sit down with Harvey and find out how he knew all this stuff.

***

Jim had heard the phrase ‘the clothes make the man’ before, but he’d never really understood what it meant until he left Harvey’s place that evening decked out in a sharp, navy blue pin-striped suit and matching fedora. He threw on a black trench coat as exited the front door of Harvey’s building with a skip in his step, feeling better than he had in awhile. The cool late spring air curled around him as he made his way to the street, keeping an eye out for a cab.

Getting the suit from Harvey had taken a bit longer than he’d expected, no thanks in part to tumblers of whiskey Harvey kept pouring. Not that Jim was about to turn them down. He hadn’t been about to give into Harvey’s requests to give up on checking out The Cool Kitty, but the warmth in his belly and brain certainly helped to quell the nerves that had arisen in the past few hours.

Now, feeling much calmer, he finally spotted a cab and hailed it, directing the driver to take him back to his office.. He considered taking the cab all the way to the club, but Harvey’s warning of keeping a low profile still rang in his ears. Instead, he went into his office for a few minutes, checked his reflection in the mirror and then headed out on foot towards the club, the card Harvey had given him in his breast pocket.

It only took about 10 minutes for him to make his way to the club. Or at least to the address Barbara Kean had given him. He looked at the slip of paper he’d written the information on and then back up at the building. If he had the right place, then they were serious about staying hidden. The outside appeared to be just a plain brick wall and some boarded up windows.

Jim began looking around the building when he noticed a narrow alley along one side of the building. About halfway down there was a steel door with a closed slot at the top. With a shrug, Jim knocked.

A few seconds later, the slot slid open to reveal a set of brown eyes staring back at him. The man on the other side of the door said nothing. Jim fumbled for a second before producing the card and showing it to the eyes peering out at him. Another few seconds and the slot closed before the door opened and he was ushered inside.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jim makes his way to the club to find out more about his new client's missing brother.

The door to The Cool Kitty opened up into a dark hallway. The man who opened the door (a rather large man with a mug only a mother could love) nodded to him without a word and motioned to take his jacket and hat. Jim handed them over and made his way down the hallway, trying to show confidence that he didn’t really feel. Maybe Harvey had been right and he should’ve turned down the case.

Jim turned a corner and was suddenly standing in a large open room. It was opulently decorated in hues of black and purple. Against the far wall, there was a huge bar that stretched for more than half the room. The wall behind the many varying bottles of booze was mirrored, making the room seem even larger than it was. Towards the far end of the bar, the room opened up again, at the end of which, there was a stage, the curtains currently drawn. In front of the stage, there was a dance floor surrounded by small round tables, each with a couple of chairs. On the wall across from the bar, there were a number of booths, all covered in a supple looking black leather. They were all built in a way that made them at least appear very private.

The room was already filling up with people, all men of course. There was some jazz music playing over speakers set up near the stage. Jim was surprised by the impeccable sound quality. Whoever owned this place must’ve had enough money to deck it out with some in the groove equipment. There were a few patrons talking closely in booths, but more were near the stage, some dancing, some sitting at the tables. Jim surmised that there was going to be a live show sometime soon.

Making his way over to the bar, Jim sat on a stool at the closer end of the bar, nearer the exit. It gave him a better vantage point of the room and allowed him to watch the men dancing. He became momentarily distracted as an unidentified feeling filled his gut while he watched them.

“Fresh fish, huh?” a deep voice said, shaking Jim from his reverie. He blinked, looking up at the bartender that had clearly just spoken to him.

Jim hadn’t heard a word and it showed on his face. He was not doing well at remaining professional and he mentally kicked himself for starting off on such a bad foot his first time out.

The bartender chuckled. “Well, aren’t you adorable. Anything I can get you?”

Jim blinked, feeling a little stunned. He was being flirted with and for possibly the first time ever, he didn’t feel uncomfortable. “Um, yeah,” he managed, finally getting his wits back. “Scotch on the rocks.”

“With pleasure,” the bartender responded, giving Jim a wink before pouring him a drink. “Anything else I can help you with?”

Jim was not deaf to the flirtatious tone in the man’s voice, but he used the opener to get down to business instead. “Actually, yes,” he started, suddenly feeling more confident with his case back in the forefront of his mind. “Does a bartender named Peter work here?”

At the mention of Peter’s name, a look of sadness crossed the man’s face. “Um, yeah,” he replied, clearly the one off his game now. “Look, could you sit tight a second? I’ll be right back.”

It wasn’t exactly the response Jim had hoped for, but the reaction the bartender had at least told him that Peter had, in fact, worked here and that something was most definitely wrong.

Jim took a sip of his drink as he contemplated the bartender’s reaction.

He didn’t have much time to think before he saw someone move out of the corner of his eye. He pretended not to notice as a man sat down on the stool next to his. For reasons he couldn’t explain, an oddly pleasant shiver ran through his body.

“I hear you’re looking for Peter,” the man said, conversationally. There was an interesting, almost sly cadence to the man’s tone that Jim found very interesting. “I’m Oswald Cobblepot, owner and manager here.”

“Jim Gordon,” he replied, holding out his hand to shake. It took everything in him to not react to the warm, smooth touch of the other man’s hand. Jim cleared his throat before continuing. “I am looking for Peter. Seems his sister is quite worried about him. I heard he works here?”

“He did,” the man admitted. “Until he missed two shifts in a row. We called his home a few times, but got no answer.”

“And you didn’t report this to the police?” Only now did Jim manage to look the other man in the eye. He was instantly glad he’d gotten his words out before he looked at him. He was smaller than Jim, and slender. His pale skin almost glowed against the dimness of the room and the blackness of his hair. It was his eyes though, a piercing ice blue that seemed to cut Jim down to the bone, that was what really caught his attention, causing him to suck a breath in through his teeth.

He was _beautiful_ , and Jim really didn’t know what to do with that thought.

There was a sparkle in those crisp blue eyes when the man took in Jim’s reaction, a small smile curling at the edge of his lips. “No, there was no report to the police. It’s not uncommon for my employees to quit without notice.”

Jim nodded slowly at that information. He could imagine that a lot of things flew under the radar here.

“Why don’t we talk about this further in private. We can go to my office. Then, may I suggest you stay for the show?”

Jim found himself agreeing without really thinking about it.

As they stood, Jim took notice of the expensive looking cane that Mr. Cobblepot picked up from where it had been leaning against the bar. The cane was jet black, with a silver ornate handle that was carved into the shape of some sort of bird. He was trying to make it out when he noticed the reason Cobblepot needed the cane. His right leg stuck out at an awkward angle as the man limped forward. Jim felt curiosity and concern fill him, but shook any thought of asking about the injury from his head. It wasn’t any of his business.

They made their way back towards the left side of the stage where Jim could see a doorway blocked off with a black curtain. They made their way past the curtain, the entryway opening up to another hallway. To the right, the area opened up to the kitchen area. A number of people dressed in white cooking scrubs worked away on delicious smelling dishes, causing Jim’s stomach to rumble. When was the last time he ate?

Cobblepot led them to a door at the end of the hallway, which opened up into a rather large office. There was a large, ornate wooden desk at the far end of the room, near a fireplace that Jim was sure could heat the large room easily even on the coldest of nights. The decor could only be described as gothic and followed the same colour scheme as the rest of the club. Somehow though, it felt cozy. 

“Please, have a seat,” Cobblepot said as he moved around to take a seat at his desk, gesturing to a large, comfortable looking, wingback chair across from him.

“Thank you, Mr. Cobblepot,” Jim replied, taking the proffered seat.

“Please, call me Oswald. Now, you wanted to know about Peter?”

“Yeah,” Jim started, leaning back into the plush chair as he crossed his legs and clasped his hands together in front of him. He couldn’t quite understand why, but he suddenly felt nervous. “Any information you may have on him could be useful. Honestly, when Ms. Kean came to me with this case, she didn’t tell me much other than he’s her brother and that he worked here.”

Oswald sat back, looking contemplative for a minute before answering. “Honestly, I can’t personally tell you much except that he was an excellent employee. Until last week when he started missing shifts, he’d never been late, never taken a sick day, nothing. It was a bit of a shock when it seemed as though he wasn’t coming back to work.”

“So it was a shock, but all you did when he didn’t show up was call him a couple of times?” Jim just couldn’t wrap his head around that part. Sure, there was the privacy thing that was clearly important here, but this still seemed excessive to him.

“There wasn’t much else I could do. I don’t keep any sort of contact information other than a phone number for any of my employees. Honestly, I’m surprised he gave his real name.” Oswald stopped then, looking thoughtful again. “I can do this for you. We have a staff meeting tomorrow afternoon at 3, before the club opens. Why don’t you come by around 3:30 and you can talk to all the employees. My staff are pretty close. They may have information that I’m not privy to.”

“That would be great Mr. Cobblepot, um, I mean Oswald. Thank you.” Now all Jim could do was hope that one of Peter’s co-workers could give him a lead. Other than that, he planned to do a little research at the library. Maybe a search through the archives could pull up some information. The Kean’s were a prominent family in Gotham, after all.

Oswald fully smiled then. “Excellent, now, it’s almost time for the first show of the night. Why don’t you join me in my personal booth and check out the show? Drinks are on the house.”

Jim considered declining, but he had to admit, he was curious. “Sure, why not.”

Oswald’s smile widened at his response, causing his eyes to sparkle. Jim couldn’t help but smile back. A warm feeling filled Jim’s stomach, causing him to fleetingly think that he could spend the rest of his life happy if Oswald always smiled like that.

“Come, we can’t miss the beginning of the show,” Oswald said softly, rising from his chair. Jim rose to follow him out of the office and back out into the main room.

Oswald’s personal booth was about midway back from the stage, giving the perfect view. They slipped into the booth just as music began to play. Jim looked around and noticed that a full band had set up in an orchestra pit that he hadn’t seen upon his first glance of the room. 

The curtain began to open, revealing a beautiful woman - wait no, it was a man dressed as a woman. Jim’s eyes opened wide in shock. He couldn’t quite process what he was seeing, or what he was feeling. He was sure that if he asked almost anyone, the response they would have, and that he should be having, was disgust, but that just wasn’t the case. Jim was enthralled. He couldn’t take his eyes off the performance as the man strutted around in a beautiful ball gown, more graceful than he ever would’ve thought a man capable, especially in those heels.

“Beautiful, isn’t he,” soft words spoken just a breath away from Jim’s ear. He could feel it as Oswald moved closer to him in the booth, but he couldn’t take his eyes away from the performance on stage.

“Yeah,” he replied, breathily without realizing he was even responding. The warmth at his side was relaxing and Jim found himself letting go of the worry he had been experiencing over enjoying the show.

“He’s not as beautiful as you though.” Oswald’s words are even softer this time. So soft that Jim’s not even sure he actually heard anything.

Curiosity over those words caused Jim to turn his head. He was surprised to find Oswald so close that their noses brushed as he turned. Jim’s immediately entranced by the closeness of those startling ice blue eyes. His breath catches in his throat. He can’t remember the last time he was this close to anyone and somehow, it’s not close enough.

Jim felt a gentle hand on his thigh and somehow his hands had found their way into the lapels of Oswald’s perfectly pressed suit jacket. They paused like that, just staring at each other, a small smile on Oswald’s lips as Jim struggled to keep his breathing under control. Conflicting emotions ran through Jim faster than a steam train as his mind raced. Part of him desperately wanted to kiss the man in front of him, more than he’d ever wanted to do anything before in his life. But there was a nagging voice in his head, the voice of his father, words spoken after an unfortunate incident that Jim hadn’t allowed himself to think of for many years now. Words telling him that he would ruin his life and his family’s good name.

Fear now mixed with the lust that had been pooling in Jim’s stomach. It must of shown on his face as he could see something flicker in Oswald’s beautiful eyes. 

“I can’t do this,” Jim said, despite the tightness filling his chest. He barely knew the man in front of him and yet in the last few short hours he felt like meeting him had changed him. He just wasn’t so sure it was a change he could handle.

He backed out of the booth, needing to get space between them as soon as he could before his resolve waivered and he ended up doing God knows what with the fascinating man in front of him.

“Jim, please.” There was just a hint of desperation in Oswald’s voice and Jim had to close his eyes against it.

“I’m sorry, I have to go. I’ll be back tomorrow to speak with your staff,” Jim said, doing everything he could to keep his voice from breaking. With that, he turned and left as quickly as he could.

Jim almost ran out the door to the club, sucking in the fresh night air. It was raining lightly and he turned his face up to the sky, trying to let the rain wash away his thoughts, if only for a second. He let out a few more deep breaths before heading away from the club as fast as he could. 

Not for the first time, Jim thanked his lucky stars he’d had the foresight to rent the one bedroom apartment that had been available right above his office. Until that night it had only been about convenience, but now he was just happy that he could get home quickly.

Jim quickly unlocked the door next to his office door that lead to a set of stairs going up with the door to his apartment at the top. He made his way up, unlocking the second door before making his way inside. He had never felt so drained in his entire life.

He headed straight to the bedroom, flopping down on his bed with a groan. _What the hell had just happened?_ He tried desperately to not think of those blue eyes, or about the fact that his body was still reacting to the experience. All he wanted to do was sleep, and forget about what had just happened, but it seemed his dick had a different idea.

Jim stripped out of his clothes, too tired to really fight himself anymore. He laid down on his back, closing his eyes as he wrapped his fingers around the base of his cock. Blindly, he reached for the tub of vaseline he kept next to his bed. It’s not like he was new to this, he’d just never had crisp blue eyes staring back at him from his mind’s eye before.

He slicked himself up, stroking slowly at first, though that didn’t last long. He’d been hard for about an hour and he wasn’t about to draw this out. His hand worked faster as his breathing picked up to a heavy pant, twisting slightly over the head, causing more delicious friction. He couldn’t keep his mind from wandering anymore as he imagined what it would’ve been like if he had given in and kissed the thin, soft-looking lips of one Oswald Cobblepot. It didn’t take much more for Jim to go over the edge, gripping his sheets with his free hand as he came harder than he could ever remember coming before.

Jim laid breathless and covered in sweat as he tried to catch his breath. “I am so fucked,” he muttered into the darkness of the room as he wondered how the hell he was going to deal with seeing Oswald Cobblepot again the next day.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jim attempts to come to terms with his experiences at The Cool Kitty, and fails miserably all while pushing ahead on the case.
> 
> Or, insomnia is a bitch.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My apologies for both the crappy chapter summaries and the delay in chapter postings. I'm kind of crap at those things.
> 
> Enjoy!

After about an hour of dozing slightly after the events of the night before, Jim spent most of Friday night and early Saturday morning staring at the ceiling of his bedroom, willing himself to not think about the strange turn of events he’d experienced at The Cool Kitty. It was no small feat, considering it was all his brain seemed to want to dwell on.

As soon as the sun started streaming in through his bedroom window, Jim finally gave up and went to take a shower. He put the water on as hot as possible, trying to ease the tension that had developed in every muscle in his body. Afterwards he dressed in one of his dark brown suits. It was nothing, it was a suit he’d owned and worn many times and he was most definitely not thinking about how he was told once that the colour brought out the blue in his eyes.

Jim made his way across the street to a diner he often frequented for breakfast. The food was nothing to write home about, but it always seemed to be open and had some decent coffee. He killed some time there, drinking damn near an entire pot of coffee himself just so he could at least attempt to have a clear head when working on the case.

When the clock in the diner hit eight o’clock, he down the rest of coffee, paid his bill, and made his way back over to his office. He took a seat behind his desk and had just started making a more detailed plan for what he wanted to get done before heading back to the club that afternoon when his phone rang.

“Jim Gordon, Private Investigator,” he answered, hoping he didn’t sound as tired as he felt.

“Mr. Gordon, it’s Barbara Kean. I was wondering if you had some time this afternoon to meet with me.”

Jim had to admit, he appreciated her ability to get down to business. He looked over the notes he’d just been making. “Let me just see here Ms. Kean,” he said looking at his plans. He intended to spend the morning at the library, hoping to find out as much as he could about the Kean family. Then he had hoped to meet Harvey for lunch around noon, especially if he found something he wanted to pick the detective’s brain about. “How does half past one work for you?”

“That would be perfect. Thank you, Mr. Gordon.”

“You’re quite welcome. I will see you then.”

They each hung up and Jim rubbed his hands over his tired eyes. Just perfect that his busiest day in a long time was also a day he got to experience with no sleep.

Knowing that if he sat still too long, he’d likely fall asleep at his desk, Jim stood and grabbed his wallet and keys and headed out. He had originally planned to take the bus to the library, but it wasn’t actually a far walk and he thought some light exercise might help keep him awake. By the time he got there it was just after nine and it had just opened. Jim walked in and headed back to the archives. He knew the Kean’s had been in the paper over the last few years, mostly for business deals and philanthropic reasons, but it was the best place Jim could think of to start.

Jim took off his suit jacket and hung it over the back of the rather uncomfortable wooden chair he was going to spend the next few hours in and rolled up his sleeves before getting down to business. It took much longer than he thought, over an hour, before he found the first interesting article. He sat back, feeling stunned as he took in the picture under the headline about an annual charity event. The picture was about ten years old and in the forefront, looking rather chummy, was Stephen Kean, Barbara and Peter’s father, Carmine Falcone, Gotham’s richest businessman, though everyone in town suspected his business was very much mob related, and finally, Jim’s own father George Gordon.

“Hot damn,” Jim whispered to himself, leaning back in his chair as he tried to understand what he was looking at. He’d had no idea that his father knew Falcone at all, let alone was hanging out with him at parties. By the date on the newspaper, the event had happened after Jim had been sent away to private school and Falcone certainly hadn’t been at his father’s funeral. That had been the year before Jim had gone off to war.

Jim spent the next few hours looking up everything he could find on Falcone, but as he had suspected, there was nothing out of the ordinary about him or his family in any public record he could find. With a sigh, Jim looked up at the clock and was surprised to see how much time had passed. If he didn’t leave right away, he was going to miss Harvey’s usual lunch break.

Twenty minutes later Jim slid into the seat across from Harvey in the restaurant he typically frequented on his break. “Hey Harv, how’s it going?”

Harvey looked up at him as he sat down and gave him a shocked look. “Holy crap Jimbo, are you okay?”

It was Jim’s turn to look surprised. He’d become so engrossed in what he’d found out at the library he’d been re-energized and had completely forgotten that he hadn’t really slept since Thursday night. “Yeah, fine why?”

“Well, you look like you’ve been on a bender, died and been brought back to life.”

“Oh yeah, I didn’t sleep well last night,” Jim said, brushing off Harvey’s concern. He wasn’t used to concern from the other man and he wasn’t sure if he was comfortable with it.

“Exactly how long did you spend at that club last night?” Harvey said then, giving him a bit of a suspicious look.

“What does that have to do with anything?” Jim replied, a little defensively. The look Harvey was giving him made him feel like Harvey could read his mind and he knew, somehow he knew what was really bothering Jim. Even the parts that Jim wasn’t willing to think about himself.

“Nothing, nevermind.” It seemed as though Harvey was willing to let whatever he thought was going on go, at least for the moment.

Just then, a waitress came over to the table, asking Jim if he wanted anything. Jim ordered a coffee for himself before turning back to Harvey. “Listen, Harv, what can you tell me about Carmine Falcone that’s off the books?”

“Jesus Jim,” Harvey said, once again shocked. The older man took in the look of determination on his friend’s face and became concerned about more than his current state of tiredness. “Keep your voice down if you’re going to ask questions like that.”

“So you do know something,” Jim said, this time making sure to whisper.

“I don’t _know_ anything. It’s all just rumour and conjecture that goes around with some of the cases we catch. We don’t have anything on him.”

Jim sat back in his seat with a sigh. “Could you at least tell me what you suspect?”

Harvey gave Jim a stern look before putting down his coffee mug. “Okay Jim, here’s what I can do for you. I’ll ask around the department about a few of the cases that we suspect Falcone could’ve been mixed up in and get you what I can, but I can guarantee it won’t be much. I’ll see what I can do though, no promises.”

Jim let out a breath he didn’t know he was holding before downing the last of his coffee and standing up. “Thanks Harv, I really appreciate it. I’ve gotta run. Another appointment calls.”

“You’re lucky I like you kid,” Harvey replied to Jim’s retreating back.

***

Jim made it back to his office about a half an hour before Ms. Kean was due to arrive.

_Perfect_ he thought as he ran up to his apartment to attempt to make himself look a little more presentable. He took one look at himself in the mirror and knew why Harvey had actually been concerned. His eyes were bloodshot like he’d spent the last week drunk, his hair was a mess and he was pale. He could see dark circles starting to form under his eyes.

Jim sighed and splashed cold water on his face before grabbing some eye drops he kept in his medicine cabinet. This certainly wasn’t the first time he’d not had enough sleep, though admittedly this was probably the first time since seeing combat that he’d had this little. Jim combed his hair and straightened his tie before heading back downstairs to wait for his client.

Not five minutes later, Barbara Kean walked into Jim’s office looking stunning in a forest green wrap around dress. She unclipped her stylish black hat and gripped it and her purse in front of her.

“Hello Mr. Gordon, thank you for meeting with me again so soon. I’m sorry, I’m just so worried that I hoped you had some new information for me.”

Jim stood as she entered the room and motioned for her to sit in the chair opposite his desk. “No need for apologies Ms. Kean,” Jim replied as they both sat down. “I can’t imagine how hard all this must be. I don’t have anything solid yet, but I do have a few leads. Actually, it’s lucky you wanted to meet so soon. I have some questions I need to ask you.”

“Of course, Mr. Gordon, anything I can do to help,” she said, batting her eyelashes and giving him a small, sad smile.

“Okay great. What can you tell me about your family’s relationship with Carmine Falcone?” he asked, getting right down to business and attempting to ignore her flirtations. Even if he’d been interested, there was no way Jim was going to do anything personal with a client.

“Uncle Carmine?” Jim could tell he’d taken her by surprise. “What does he have to do with anything? He’s been nothing but wonderful to my whole family. Especially Peter and myself. He loves us like his own children.”

Jim nodded, looking thoughtful. It was the answer he’d been expecting, but he still couldn’t shake the feeling that Falcone at least knew something about what had happened to Peter. It seemed odd to him that one of the most powerful men in the city wouldn’t know. Though, if he was indeed corrupt, it would make sense as to why the family had come to him and not the police.

“You don’t believe me,” she said, interrupting his thoughts.

“No, no, it’s not that. It’s just that he’s got all the resources anyone could want, and yet you have to come to someone like me on your own to find out what’s happened to your brother.”

Ms. Kean looked thoughtful for a moment. “Well, we’re hosting a charity event next Saturday night. We had thought of canceling due to Peter’s disappearance, but my parents believe that Peter wouldn’t have wanted us to stop on his behalf. The show must go on,” she said, a bit bitterly. “Anyway, Uncle Carmine is going to be there. Why don’t you come as my guest and you can talk to him yourself?”

Jim’s initial reaction was to say no, but that was just a gut reaction to the way she’d been looking at him. He didn’t want to lead her on. This, however, was for work. This, he hoped, would go a long way to finding out what happened to her brother provided his instincts were right.

“Count me in.”

***

It wasn’t long after Barbara left that Jim realized it was almost time for him to head back over to the club. His stomach did backflips at the idea and he noticed that his hands had started to shake, though really, that was more likely to have been a result of only consuming coffee all day.

Jim didn’t think that he’d ever been so nervous before. The mere thought of Oswald Cobblepot had him facing fears he had kept buried deep for longer than he wanted to think about. Hell, he didn’t want to think about any of this. He just wanted to do his job, find Peter, complete the case and hopefully continue moving forward with new cases. He could and he would block out all the rest.

Before leaving, he straightened his tie and brushed a hand over his hair to make sure he didn’t look too dishevelled and headed out the door. He made it to the club in no time and couldn’t help but regret his initial happiness at having it be so close to his office.

Making his way to the main entrance, he knocked solidly, trying to display a confidence he no longer felt. The door was opened by the same mug that had let him in before.

“Mr. Gordon.” The man greeted him with a gruff voice that matched his exterior. “Mr. Cobblepot said to tell you should go ahead and talk to everyone, but if you could try to be done by five so they can finished setting up for tonight. Saturday’s are pretty busy around here.”

“And where is Mr. Cobblepot?” Jim asked, trying to keep his voice neutral. He can’t help but feel disappointed, but he really doesn’t want to examine that, now or ever.

“He had some business to take care of outside the club.”

“Okay then, why don’t we get started? How long have you worked here Mister?”

“Gabe, call me Gabe. Oh, and Mr. Gordon, don’t forget your hat and coat when you leave again this time.” The knowing smirk that spread across the man’s features caused a blush of embarrassment to colour Jim’s cheeks.

***

Jim spent the next hour talking with all the employees. Most seemed unwilling to say anything at all, despite the fact that Jim wasn’t a cop. Seemed Private Investigator was still a little too close to having a badge. It wasn’t like Jim could blame them. He was damn sure he wouldn’t want to talk to anyone if he were in their position. Still, he could tell that some of them knew something, he just didn’t know how to make them talk. He briefly wondered if he would’ve done better if he could’ve had a decent night’s sleep.

Just before five, Jim gave up and decided to call it a day. It wasn’t like he was in any condition to do much more. He just wanted to go home and pray for sleep.


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jim's insomnia hits its peak, we find out a bit more about Jim's past and Oswald does what he can.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here you go! The next chapter. I hope it holds up. I think this one is my favourite. Comments and kudos are always welcome. Enjoy!

Jim had never wanted to scream so much in his entire life. He’d never felt so frustrated before and the last time he’d been even close to this tired he’d been on the front lines. That had been different though. That had had a purpose. He’d known why he was there, what he was doing, that he was fighting for the greater good. He’d been scared but determined. Now, now he also felt scared, but it was of an unknown enemy. Hell, he wasn’t even sure that what he was scared of wasn’t really even an enemy.

These thoughts continued to plague his mind as he tossed and turned for yet another sleepless night. He felt nervous and agitated as he stared at his ceiling, like he was fighting a losing battle. There was one other time he’d felt like this, a time long ago that he hadn’t thought of in years.

Jim had considered buying himself a bottle of whiskey on his way back from the club that night, thinking if nothing else, it may stop his thoughts and allow him some sleep, but he had decided against it, a little worried about how it might affect him considering how little he’d eaten over the last couple of days. Now he regretted his decision fiercely.

Groaning in frustration, Jim finally gave up and got up around three in the morning. He went into the bathroom and ran himself a hot bath, hoping it would at least calm him. The heat of the water was definitely soothing, but he didn’t feel any closer to sleep, and eventually got out when the water turned cold and his fingers had wrinkled up like prunes. 

Not really sure what else to do, Jim finally got dressed in a casual pair of slacks and a sweater. It was Sunday and nothing was going to be open, but he could kill some time going over his notes and trying to figure out what direction he should look in next.

He spent the next few hours pouring over everything he had. His head was starting to ache and his eyes were burning, but he still doubted sleep would come easily. It had, however, become futile to keep staring at his notes. He was sure there was something he could put together with them, but in his current state, he was unlikely to figure it out.

Jim was just about to go back up to his apartment and see if there was a can of soup in his cupboard he could force himself to eat when his phone rang. Jim just stared at it for a second, as if he wasn’t quite sure what to do about it, then his brain kicked back in and he picked up the receiver.

“Gordon Investigations,” he said into the phone, hoping he didn’t sound as tired as he felt.

“Jim, I’m actually a little surprised that you answered, this being a Sunday and all.” The oddly familiar voice of Oswald Cobblepot filtered through the line, causing Jim’s heart to catch in his throat. “Some of my men mentioned that you seemed a little off yesterday. I thought maybe you would be taking some time to relax.”

Jim leaned back in his chair and pinched the bridge of his nose, hoping it would help alleviate his headache a bit. “If you didn’t think I would answer, why did you call?” He couldn’t help keep the note of amusement out of his voice. Jim was too tired to fight the realization that he just felt better that the other man called at all.

“I don’t have another contact number for you and I thought it couldn’t hurt to try.”

“Can’t argue with that, I suppose. What can I do for you?”

“Well, I was wondering, if you’re not busy today, if you wouldn’t mind coming by the club. I do so regret that I couldn’t be here when you spoke with my men yesterday. I was hoping to make it up to you.”

Jim considered the offer for a moment. It was probably a mistake, but he couldn’t help it. He wanted to see the other man. He’d only met Oswald once, and fighting what he was only now allowing himself to admit was an attraction to him was just more than his exhausted mind could handle at that moment.

“I’m free all day,” Jim finally replied, sounding only a little defeated. Two days without sleep tended to do that to him.

“That’s good. Why don’t you come by in an hour?” Oswald’s voice was soft, with a little more than a hint of worry tinging it.

“I’ll see you then,” Jim replied before hanging up. He let out a long, slow breath and rubbed his shaking hands over his face. He didn’t know what he was getting himself into, and he was no longer sure he cared.

***

Jim let out a long slow breath, blinking slowly as he looked around Oswald’s office, slowly managing to take in the look of worry on the other man’s face. He must be worse off than he’d originally thought as the last thing he knew he was grabbing his wallet and keys just before heading out to the club. He had absolutely no recollection of how he got there, or even entering the club. And now he found himself staring dumbly as the other man limped his way around his desk and over to stand in front of Jim.

“Good god, Jim! What happened to you?” The concern on Oswald’s face sounded doubly in his voice. Oswald raised a hand to cup Jim’s cheek, gently rubbing the bags under Jim’s eye.

Jim closed his eyes and leaned into the touch, unable to make himself care that he was enjoying the comfort it gave. “I haven’t been sleeping well,” he admitted.

“It looks more like you haven’t been sleeping at all. Come, sit down before you fall over.” Oswald led him to a couch near a fireplace on the far side of the room and pushed him down onto it. Oswald sat on the coffee table in front of the couch so he could face Jim.

Jim didn’t say anything, just sank back into the unbelievably comfortable couch. He almost immediately felt more relaxed than he had in days. He closed his eyes and tilted his head back against the couch. He knew what was coming, he’d known since the moment he’d met Oswald Cobblepot; that there was an attraction between them and he knew now that it was likely the reason for his insomnia, but he still wasn’t sure he was ready to deal with it.

“Jim,” Oswald said softly, voice still filled with concern. “I know we barely know each other, and you have no reason to open up to me about anything, but I would like to help you so if you want to talk, I am here.”

Jim cracked open his tired eyes and looked at the man sitting across from him. He looked worried, his bright blue eyes wide and concerned. He also looked a little nervous, like he wanted to touch Jim again, but didn’t know if it was okay to do.

Sighing deeply, Jim sat up a bit and looked Oswald in the eyes. Like it or not, Jim could no longer deny that he was interested in the other man. It’s not like denying it for the last two days had done him any good. Leaning forward, he rested his forearms on his thighs and ran a tired hand through his hair. “Our first meeting stressed me out a little,” he admitted.

“I can tell. You did seem a little… confused when you left here the other night. I assume this sort of thing is new to you?”

Jim huffed laughter. “Not exactly, but close enough. Certainly it’s the strongest I can remember feeling about someone.” Tentatively, he glanced at Oswald, wanting to gauge his reaction.

A small smile graced Oswald’s features. “I have to admit, I was a little worried. I still am actually. It’s not all the time that someone almost kisses me and then runs out in terror. I don’t want to make you feel uncomfortable, ever, so if you want to see where this goes, we’re going to need to talk about this more. Maybe after you’ve had some sleep?”

“Yeah, I should probably go home anyway,” Jim said, moving to stand. Oswald stopped him with a simple gesture of his hand.

“No, please, rest here. You’re in no condition to go anywhere. Lay down and I’ll get you a pillow and a blanket. We’ll have dinner later and then we’ll see how you’re doing. Just so you know, if I don’t like what I see, I’m having Gabe make up the guest room.”

Jim huffed a bit, but was in no condition to argue. Oswald left the room to fetch the pillow and blanket, coming back to find a softly snoring Jim Gordon on his couch.

***

 

The sky was a strange colour when Jim stepped out of his house, a deep shade of red dotted with pinkish-purple clouds. Jim took no notice though. He felt light and happy, despite how slowly he was moving. It was Monday morning, but it was also the start of the last week of school in his Freshman year of high school.

He moved down the streets like he was floating, thinking about what a gas Saturday night had been. His best friend, Matt Maroni, had slept over and they’d made ace plans for the entire summer. He simply could not wait.

Jim didn’t really notice that anything was strange until he got to school. The world of students and teachers seemed to zoom by him as his steps seemed to slow, like he was walking through molasses. He was supposed to meet Matt outside the front doors, but he’s not there. 

Suddenly, Jim finds himself alone and unable to move. Just then, the sky opens up and rain started to fall like a hurricane had suddenly blown in. Within seconds, the whole front of the school grounds looked more like a lake than the parking lot that was usually there. 

Then, just as quickly as it started, it was all gone. The skies cleared and the water disappeared as if it was never there. The sun came out, shining down so brightly it was blinding. Jim shaded his eyes with one hand and looked out over the area in confusion. Confusion turned to fear when he noticed what looked like a person lying in the middle of the parking lot. Without really wanting to, Jim’s feet began move of their own volition. The closer he got, the more dread filled him. He was still about fifty feet away when he noticed the person wasn’t moving and was lying in a very unnatural way. 

It wasn’t until he was standing right over the body that the true horror hit him. It was Matt.

***

Jim woke up with a start, a scream caught in his throat and a thin sheen of sweat covering his forehead. He gasped, eyes darting around as he tried to remember where the hell he was. He rubbed his shaking hands over his face, trying to dispel the images of the dream from his mind.

“Jim?” A soft but concerned voice floated through the air towards him. Jim took in a shaky breath and attempted to answer, but couldn’t find his voice.

Just then, the concerned face of one Oswald Cobblepot came into view about him. “Hey,” Jim finally managed to reply, his voice low in an attempt to keep it from shaking.

“Are you okay?” Oswald sat down on the coffee table by the couch near Jim’s head.

Jim offered him a small smile, but didn’t respond. He wasn’t okay, not yet anyway. He hadn’t thought of Matt in more years than he’d like to think and he could help but feel ashamed for forgetting someone who had once meant the world to him. He filled with shame as he looked back at Oswald, wondering if he’d forget about this man one day too. Jim made up his mind then and there to find out what happened to Matt, no matter how long it took.

Oswald sighed, his face making it plain that he knew Jim wasn’t ready to talk about what had clearly been a nightmare. Instead, he offered food. “Are you hungry?”

“Yeah,” Jim replied as he sat up gingerly, his knee brushing against Oswald’s as he moved. He left his leg there, feeling the warmth coming off the other man and taking comfort in it.

Smiling tentatively, Oswald placed a hand on Jim’s knee where their legs touched, squeezing gently as if to reassure. “I’ll go get the chef to whip something up,” he said, moving to stand. As he did so, Jim covered the hand still touching his knee with his own hand and returned the smile. He held on, willing Oswald not to leave just yet.

“Thank you,” Jim said then, looking Oswald straight in the eye, face serious now. “Really, you didn’t have to do any of this and I appreciate it.”

“There’s really no need to thank me. I want to help you,” Oswald replied sincerely. “It’s like I said earlier, we haven’t known each other long, but I’m here if you need anything.”

Jim nodded but didn’t remove his hand from Oswald’s. He found that he couldn’t keep his eyes off the other man. He took his features in in detail, suddenly worried that he’d never be able to look at him like this again. A sudden realization overcame him then, the same feeling that had filled him the first night he’d met Oswald, the feeling that he’d never wanted to kiss anyone so much before in his entire life. Unconsciously, he bit his bottom lip and looked Oswald straight in the eye. He was surprised to find the other man’s expression to be one of knowing, like he could read his mind. 

And maybe he could because Oswald’s next move was to gently slide his free hand around to the back of Jim’s neck and pull him closer. There was a brief pause where Oswald gave him a questioning look, as if to ask him if he was sure. Jim licked his lips and gave the briefest of nods and that was all it took. 

Soft lips brushed his gently, causing Jim to close his eyes as he pressed back. Jim couldn’t remember the last time he’d been kissed, but somehow this most gentle of kisses made him think that he’d never actually been kissed ever. Not like this, never like this. The kiss became firmer then, Oswald pulling him a little closer as Jim gripped his free hand into Oswald’s shirt. No more thoughts entered Jim’s head, all his senses were focused on feeling. The feel of Oswald’s lips pressed to his, the feel of his lips opened to accept a soft but firm tongue into his mouth. By the time Oswald pulled away, Jim was panting, eyes still closed as he pressed his forehead to Oswald’s.

“Wow,” Jim breathed when he finally had the ability to speak. He’d seen movies and read books where people said they were rendered speechless by a kiss, but until that moment, Jim hadn’t thought that was a real thing.

“Indeed,” Oswald said, smiling openly now. “Now I really think we should get you something to eat and some more sleep.”

“Yeah,” Jim replied, still feeling stunned. He didn’t stop Oswald when he stood this time, just touched his lips as if he still couldn’t quite believe what had just happened.

_Maybe this won’t be so bad afterall,_ Jim thought as he watched Oswald leave the room.


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jim digs deeper into the case and finds out some interesting things about his past. He also gets another excuse to go see Oswald.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the delay on posting this chapter. No excuses, just life getting in the way. Hope you all enjoy!

When Jim woke up the next day, he felt more relaxed than he had in weeks, maybe longer. He stretched out on the plush bed, covered in expensive sheets that felt like absolute heaven against his skin. It was then that he remembered the night before and realized where he was.

Jim sat bolt upright, shock apparent on his face as he looked around. Well, Oswald did say he would make him stay over, and honestly, the last thing Jim remembered was lying back on the couch after a delicious meal. How he ended up in bed wearing only his boxer briefs, he really didn’t know. He knew that he should be more disturbed by that thought, but somehow he wasn’t.

He rolled out of bed and looked at the clock, eight in the morning, not too bad. He stretched and looked around the room. It was a little on the ornate side for his tastes, but also seemed warm and inviting, comfortable. It was done up in dark wood and forest green and it appeared to be as big as Jim’s whole apartment.

There were two doors at the far end of the room. One was closed and the other left ajar. Jim made his way over and found the open one lead to an en suite bathroom. Just outside the door, Jim found his clothes, neatly laundered and folded on top of it. Oswald was nothing if not a good host.

Deciding to take advantage of the situation, Jim took a long hot shower before getting dressed and venturing out of the room. Opening the second door, Jim found he was in a long hallway with a number of doors leading off of it. He looked both ways down the hallway and found that it was a dead end to his left, so he made his way right. As he got closer to the other end of the hallway, he realized he could hear a conversation. Jim didn’t like the idea of eavesdropping, but found he couldn’t help himself.

“I know, I know, but I think we can trust him.” Jim could hear Oswald’s now familiar voice through one of the doorways. “He’s one of us, I’m sure.” There were pauses in between Oswald’s words, leading Jim to recognize that he was listening to one half of a telephone conversation.

Jim heard Oswald sigh before saying “Okay, I’ll wait,” and hanging up. He waited a few beats before lightly knocking on the door.

“Come in,” Oswald said through the door, sounding distracted.

Jim opened the door almost hesitantly. He would admit that the small bit of conversation he’d heard had piqued his interest, but he had nothing except his gut to tell him that it was anything to concern himself about. “Hey, I’m not interrupting, am I?”

A smile spread across Oswald’s face. “No, not at all Jim. Please, come in.”

“I shouldn’t stay, I have some work to get back to. I just wanted to thank you for your, um, hospitality yesterday.” Jim could not stop the blush that crept across his cheeks.

“No need for thanks. You’re welcome here any time.”

Jim nodded his thanks again and left before he talked himself out of ever leaving again.

***

Jim headed straight to the library from the club. Now that he’d finally had a decent night’s rest, he wanted to look up Falcone with a fresh set of eyes. He hadn’t forgotten about looking up Matt either. What he couldn’t have guessed, when he entered the library that sunny Monday morning, was that he’d find more than he possibly could’ve guessed.

He spent the next couple of hours going over every little piece of information he could find on Falcone in old newspapers and found nothing out of place. Either Falcone really was clean, or he hid his illegal doings better than anyone Jim had ever come across.

Heaving a sigh, Jim decided to take a break from Falcone and instead switched to looking up his old friend. All he really remembered about that time was that Matt hadn’t shown up for the last week of school and that Jim’s father had sent him away to boarding school only a few weeks later. Jim had been too upset at the time, and probably too young to realize it, but looking back, it was strange that he was sent away. His parents hadn’t been poor, but they certainly hadn’t been rich either. How they had managed to afford to send him away was just another curiosity that bothered Jim on a regular basis.

Four articles in, Jim found something that caused his breath to stick in his throat. The headline read: **GOTHAM’S LATEST RECIPIENT OF THE FALCONE BURSARY.** Beneath it was a photo of the one and only Carmine Falcone, and Jim’s long ago best friend, Matt Maroni, smiling and holding an oversized check.

Jim rubbed his eyes as if he couldn’t quite believe what he was seeing. The article went on to explain that the bursary was given out to students who showed exceptional foresight in the area of science or math. Jim remember then that Matt had been quite good at science and that he’d had something to do that Sunday evening. He’d stayed over at his house the night before, but had to leave early the next day to get ready.

What Jim couldn’t wrap his head around was why his old friend had received a bursary, that as far as Jim could find typically went to a senior applying to College, was given to a freshman. It just didn’t make any sense.

Jim was going to have to pay Harvey another visit.

***

Jim made it to the diner that Harvey frequented right around half past noon the next day. He’d called Harvey’s desk and found that he was off on Monday, so he’d taken the rest of the day to go over what he’d found and figure out exactly what he wanted to ask Harvey.

Once again slipping into the seat across from Harvey in his favourite boothe, Jim snatched a french fry from his friend’s plate and smiled. “Hey Harv, what’s a buzzin’ cousin?”

The look that Harvey returned him was so comical that Jim couldn’t help but burst out laughing. “Well, it looks like you’re doing better than the last time I saw you. And ‘ _what’s a buzzin’ cousin?_ ’ Really?”

Jim snorted laughter in return. Just then the waitress came over to the table asking if he needed anything. He ordered a reuben with fries, a side of slaw and an extra pickle before turning his cup over so she could fill it with coffee.

Harvey raised an eyebrow at him. “You really are doing better. What happened?”

“Nothing, nothing I just finally got some sleep,” Jim replied, trying in vain to wipe the smile from his face. Well, no matter. No chance in Hell that Jim would ever tell Harvey what had improved his mood.

“Sure kid, whatever you say,” Harvey said, letting it go for the moment. “Now, I assume you’re here interfering with my ever valued break time to find out if I got any dirt on Falcone?”

“Yeah, you find anything?”

“Not much,” Harvey admitted as he dug into his own food. “Best I found is that there’s something a little odd going on with some of his finances. The guys in Fraud are apparently looking to take him down Capone style. Apparently there are records of some of his finances that just sort of dry up at some point. They can’t seem to figure out exactly where it goes, but at least some of it is made to look like it’s going to fund college. Looks like every few years he almost randomly picks a boy and decides to pay his way through college. That’s about all I’ve got though.”

Jim nodded. “Yeah, I came across some stuff about him giving money like that.” Jim looked thoughtful for a moment as the waitress returned with his food. “Nothing apparently illegal about it, but I have to admit I’m curious about how he decides who gets the money.”

They finished the rest of their meals in relative silence, Jim’s mind working in over-drive as he tried to figure out how to follow the money trail. Or at least if there was a way he could talk to Falcone at the Kean party that coming weekend.

 

***

Jim’s investigation was at a complete standstill by Thursday. Harvey had no new information, he very well couldn’t get any information out of the bank. Even the cops didn’t have enough to get a warrant on the man’s finances. Jim was tired and frustrated and honestly, he could only hope that the party at the Kean’s would give him something to go on.

“Shit, the party,” Jim muttered to himself. He shuffled some papers on his desk before finally pulling out the invitation he’d received in the mail a few days prior. There, staring back at him were words he dreaded to read:

**BLACK TIE**

_Damn it_. Jim was just starting out. He’d spent the last of his savings opening up his business, paying rent, all that normal everyday bill paying sort of thing. He only owned three suites and none of them were a tux, that was for damn sure. Even the suit that Harvey had lent him wasn’t nice enough for an event like this. He doubted he had enough money to even rent a tux for the night. He would after he was paid for this job, but that hardly helped now. Jim made a note to make sure he got more money upfront on his next case.

Jim sighed and leaned back in his chair, tapping his fingers on his desk in thought. There was one person he knew who was always impeccably dressed, a person that he very much would like to see again. Without a second thought, Jim picked up the phone and dialed the number of the club.

An hour later found Jim once again sitting on the couch in Oswald’s office. This time was a little more pleasant as instead of feeling a bit like death warmed over, he sat watching Oswald, who was currently chuckling at him, with a small smile of his own gracing his usually more serious features.

“Let me make sure I’m understanding you correctly,” Oswald started again. “You just realized now that you need a tuxedo two days from now and have no way to get one at this time.”

Jim shrugged in response. “I’m not typically a very fancy guy. It’s kind of a miracle I thought of it at all, really.”

“Well, never fear, you have indeed come to the right place,” Oswald said, placing a hand on one of Jim’s knees and giving it a quick squeeze. “I likely have something lying around that I could get my tailor to fix up for you in enough time. But really Jim, next time you need something like this, it would be much easier if you came to me earlier.”

Jim just rolled his eyes, knowing that he was being teased. Oswald motioned for him then to follow him out of the office. He was lead down the hallway he’d been in the night he’d stayed in the guest room, but this time they went into a different room.

It was immediately evident that this room was the master bedroom. Though the guest room he’d stayed in was what Jim had considered huge, it was nothing compared to Oswald’s room. Against the far right hand wall there was a huge four poster bed, probably the largest bed Jim had ever laid eyes on. There were curtains strung from it like it was straight out of the mid-1800’s. The massive headboard pressed flat to the wall with large windows to the left and two doorways to the right. In the centre of the room, where they had pretty much entered, was an entire sitting area as if his bedroom had its own living room. On the far left wall of the room was an enormous fireplace. The windows continued along the wall Jim was facing as he entered, all lined with heavy drapery that Jim assumed kept out the sunlight when Oswald had to sleep late after a night running the club. All the remaining space that did not have windows was covered in floor to ceiling bookshelves containing more books that Jim had ever seen in his whole life. The room was easily as impressive as the man who occupied its space.

Jim looked around in wonder before he noticed that Oswald was smiling at him. “I take it you like it,” Oswald said, a note of humour in his voice.

“I take it I’ve never seen anything like this in my life,” Jim replied, sounding as impressed as he felt. He simply could not imagine living like this.

“Please, have a seat,” Oswald said, still smiling as he motioned to one of the very comfortable looking over-stuffed chairs in the middle of the room. Jim sat as Oswald went to one of the doors over near the bed. It appeared to lead to a walk-in closet, one that must’ve been bigger than Jim could tell from where he sat as it was a couple of minutes before Oswald appeared again.

“Okay, let’s see what we have here,” Oswald said, laying one of the two suits in protective plastic he’d brought out over the arm of the chair across from Jim. “This first one is your standard black tuxedo. Very nice, and I’m sure you could pull it off, but I’m thinking I’d like to see you in this one.” 

Oswald picked up the other bag again and unzipped the protective bag to show Jim a dark blue, classic tux. It wasn’t much different from what Jim was sure was in the other bag, except that the colour was like nothing he’d ever seen before. Jim stood and walked over to Oswald and touched the sleeve of the tux. The material was luxurious in feel, clearly much more expensive than anything Jim had ever laid eyes on.

“I thought it would bring out your eyes,” Oswald said softly with a smile in his eyes. “What do you think?”

“I think it’s far more than I deserve. How do you just have something like this just lying around?” The awe in Jim’s voice was palpable.

“There’s nothing you don’t deserve, James. Now why don’t you go try this on and we’ll see where any adjustments are needed.” 

Oswald showed Jim to the absolutely massive en suite and handed him the suite. “Let me know if you… need a hand,” Oswald gave Jim a wink as Jim closed the door.

Jim shook his head, unable to keep the grin from his face at how Oswald had been flirting. Jim still couldn’t quite get over it. He had been flirted with more times than he could remember in his life, but for the first time, he felt completely at ease with it.

Jim’s feeling of giddiness over the flirting quickly dissipated as he found all the different working parts to a tuxedo. Honestly, he had thought it was like a normal suit, but with a bowtie, but apparently he was very wrong. He’d never seen so many contraptions and hooks and god knows what. After twenty minutes, he’d only managed the pants and the shirt, and even then he wasn’t sure he’d done that right.

With a huff, Jim exited the bathroom. The pants were a little long and he felt a bit like he was shuffling around like a little kid trying on his dad’s clothes. “What exactly are all these for?” Jim asked, holding up the extra doodads that had come with the suit, sounding a little more petulant than he had intended. 

Oswald couldn’t help but chuckle at the man that stood before him. He shook his head slightly and walked over to Jim, taking the extras from him he methodically began showing him how to properly use the sock guards and suspenders. If Jim sucked in a soft breath as Oswald’s delicate fingers danced across him, buckling here, there and everywhere, then no one mentioned it. Finally, Oswald stood in front of Jim, maybe a little closer than was completely necessary as he finished tying the bowtie that finished off the suit.

“Well,” Oswald started, looking Jim up and down. “Let me take some measurements. Looks like we’ll have to shorten the legs and sleeves a bit, but other than that, it’s a good fit.”

Jim let out a breath he hadn’t realized he had been holding. When he had first noticed the ‘black tie’ note on the invitation, he’d all but thought he was screwed. “I don’t know how to thank you,” Jim said, watching Oswald as he patted down his lapels.

“Anytime Jim,” Oswald replied, looking directly into Jim’s eyes with a hint of mischief. “Maybe now we can get you out of it?”

Pink rose in Jim’s cheeks almost instantly as butterflies began to dance in his stomach. He’d be a liar if he said he hadn’t been thinking about the kiss they’d shared. Before he could think himself right out of the moment, Jim found himself placing a hand on Oswald’s cheek before pulling him into a kiss.

It was soft and slow at first, and Jim still wasn’t 100% sure how far he was ready to take anything, but he’d be lying if he weren’t at least a little curious. If it weren’t for the case, Jim was sure he would’ve been practically obsessing over what he might want to try.

He had barely wrapped his head around that thought when he felt Oswald’s persistent tongue pressing at his bottom lip. An almost embarrassing moan left him as he opened his mouth, accepting the offered gift.

For once, Jim decided to just let go and see what would happen. He wrapped his arms around the smaller man, pulling him closer, needing to feel more. There wasn’t even an inch of space between them anymore and it still wasn’t enough. He rocked against Oswald, making his interest known, and feeling Oswald’s own in return. Oswald’s hands came up to grasp at Jim’s shoulders, like he was also trying to pull him closer, to climb inside his skin.

Oswald was the first to break the kiss, but he did not move away, instead choosing to rest his forehead against Jim’s. “Are you sure?” he breathed, air puffing out against Jim’s lips.

Jim nodded in response, unsure he even had a proper voice to speak with anymore. Oswald smiled and gently stroked his cheek before guiding him back towards the bed.

“You just let me know if I do anything you’re not ready for,” Oswald said, insistently. It was clear that he wanted to make this good for Jim, and that went a long way to making him feel more relaxed.

“Yeah,” Jim breathed, “let’s just take it slow.”

 

***

A few hours later, Jim left Oswald’s after receiving the best blowjob he could’ve ever imagined and the promise of picking up a nicely tailored tux the next day.


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jim gets ready for the big party and ends up getting more than he ever could've bargained for.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We're almost done! One more chapter after this. I hope you all enjoy.

Jim got dressed for the Kean party at Oswald’s. There was a chance that he’d remember how to put on all the contraptions that came with the suit, but he really didn’t want to take the risk. He would’ve been nervous about going to a big fancy party dressed in a monkey suit on a good day, but there was a whole lot more riding on this shindig.

With a huff, Jim frowned at himself in the floor to ceiling mirror in Oswald’s ridiculously big closet. It took a few minutes before he noticed Oswald chuckling at him from behind. “What?” Jim said with tone that matched the look on his face.

“I’m sorry Jim, you’re just too cute. Now quit fussing with the tie!” Oswald smacked Jim’s hands away from his neck. “You look great, now stop.”

Jim made a harumpfing noise that only caused more laughter from Oswald. With a smile, he smoothed out Jim’s lapels and leaned up to peck a soft kiss to his lips before ushering him out the door. Oswald had arranged for a car to take Jim to the party, and as it pulled up to the curb, Jim couldn’t help but be thankful for the ride. He really needed to look into investing in a car if the cases he took continued to take him all over town.

About ten minutes later, the car pulled up in front of the biggest house Jim had ever seen. He’d known that the Kean’s were rich, almost as rich as the Wayne’s, but this would be the first time Jim ever stepped inside a home so opulent. 

As he ascended the stairs to the front door, it was opened by a butler (a butler!) and it took all of Jim’s strength to not let surprise he felt show on his face.

“Mr. Gordon,” the man greeted, bowing slightly to show him into the Kean home. The butler lead Jim down the hallway and into a grand ballroom, the size of which dwarfed the entirety of Oswald’s club. 

This time it was next to impossible for Jim to reign in his surprise. He looked around, taking in the multiple crystal chandeliers that hung throughout the room and the deep reds and golds that accented the walls and windows. Jim felt like he was going to a party with royalty. The room was filled with women in ball gowns adorned with diamonds and tuxedos as far as the eye could see. Waiters moved effortlessly through the crowd, offering glasses of champagne and hors d’oeuvres. All Jim could manage for a minute was to look around the room in awe.

“Jim! You made it!” Jim turned to find Ms. Kean striding towards him with a glass of champagne in her hand. “It’s so good to see you. Do you have any news on my brother?”

Jim smiled in response and took her hand to kiss it in greeting. “Ms. Kean. The case is progressing, but I’m afraid I’ve not found him yet.”

“Please, call me Barbara,” he said, smiling softly, sadly. “It’s okay. I can’t thank you enough for trying.”

Jim frowned slightly, wanting to reassure her that he was doing everything in his power to make sure he got her brother home safely, but just as he opened his mouth to speak, another man spoke from behind him.

“Why Barbara, aren’t you going to introduce me to your friend?” The voice was gruff and stern, but there was a hint of amusement there too.

“Uncle Carmine!” Barbara exclaimed, her face immediately lighting up as Jim turned to see the man coming towards them. As if Jim hadn’t had enough surprises in the last few minutes, he still couldn’t quite believe that he was coming face to face with Carmine Falcone not five minutes after getting to the party.

Barbara hugged Falcone close and kissed him on the cheek. “I wasn’t sure you were going to be able to make it tonight.” She stood back slightly then and motioned to Jim. “This is my friend Jim Gordon. He’s been helping me out with something.”

Jim held his hand out to shake and for just a moment, he could swear he’d taken Falcone by surprise. The older man managed to school his features, but there was a pause, just barely perceptible, but there none the less. If Jim didn’t know any better, he would’ve thought that Falcone recognized him.

That wasn’t possible though, was it? The older man did know his father...

The moment broke, and Falcone shook Jim’s hand. “Good to meet you, Jim.” He clapped him on the shoulder and smiled. “If you’re a friend of Barbara’s, then you’re a friend of the family. If you ever need anything, don’t hesitate to ask.”

***

About an hour passed and Jim had spent most of his time pretending to mingle while trying to keep an eye on Falcone. Jim couldn’t be sure, but he had the distinct feeling that Falcone was doing the same to him. Every once in awhile, he would look up and find the other man watching him. It was like an odd game of cat and mouse that Jim hadn’t really been expecting to play. And he couldn’t quite shake the feeling that Falcone had recognized him when they’d been introduced. It just didn’t make any sense. Jim was sure that he’d remember meeting someone like Carmine Falcone.

Jim snapped out of his reverie just in time to catch Falcone sneaking out a door near the back of the room. Moving as quickly as he could without breaking into a run, Jim followed. He made it through the door just in time to see Falcone turn the corner at the end of a hallway that the door lead to. Moving as quickly and quietly as he could, Jim made his way down the hallway and watched as Falcone entered a room just around the corner. Without moving, Jim stood outside the door, listening to see what Falcone might be doing.  
It was only a few seconds before Jim could hear Falcone speaking on the other side of the door.

“Did you know he was going to be here?”

And then after a pause.

“Well, a little notice would’ve been nice. I thought I told you to keep him out of this? It’s not safe, you know that.”

It didn’t take a genius to figure out that Falcone was talking to someone on the phone, but Jim had to admit this was the most interesting thing he’d heard concerning Falcone since this whole case started. Now if only Falcone would give him some context. The vagueness of everything he’d heard so far meant that Falcone could be talking about anyone and about anything.

“Oswald.” Falcone’s tone was harsh, warning, but it was the name that caused Jim’s back to stiffen and his eyes to widen in surprise before narrowing in anger and hurt.

_Oswald knew something about this?!_

Jim’s breathing started to come in harsh pants as he tried to keep his growing anger under control. Oswald, who had helped him get ready for this party, knowing full well what he was trying to accomplish that night. _Oswald_ knew what Falcone was up to?

Jim’s hands clenched into fists as he found it increasingly hard to keep his cool. He was so distracted by what he’d heard that he didn’t notice when the door in front of him opened, Falcone standing in front of him looking surprised and a little concerned.

The expression on Falcone’s face didn’t register to Jim and before either of them could say anything, Jim turned on his heel walked away, back through the party and out the door without a word or a look to anyone.

***

Not wanting to feel like he owed Oswald anything, he bypassed the car Oswald had sent him in and hailed a cab. He had just enough cash on him to make it right to Oswald’s club. Jim wrenched at his tie almost violently in the back of the cab as he tried to make sense of what had just happened. 

Clearly, Oswald had known a lot more about everything than he’d been willing to let on to Jim. He just couldn’t quite believe that he’d been running all over town, trying to find a missing person and all the time, the one person he’d come to really trust in this god forsaken city had let him down so monumentally. The only person he’d ever trusted enough to let in, to show who he really was to, and it had all just been thrown back in his face. Jim couldn’t ever remember anything ever hurting so much in his life.

The cab pulled up in front of the club and Jim tossed him some money before getting out. He was only halfway to the club door when it opened, Oswald stepping out to meet him looking rather upset himself.

Jim came to a halt a few feet from the other man. His whole body shaking with hurt and anger and, much to his own embarrassment, tears welling up in his eyes. “How could you?” he all but growled at the man standing in front of him. “Did you have fun? Making me look like an idiot?”

“Jim, please. I can explain,” Oswald replied, holding his hands up in a placating gesture. “Why don’t you come inside and we can talk.”

Jim scoffed and absentmindedly wiped at a stray tear that leaked down his cheek. “And what exactly is there to talk about? How I’m just some bumbling idiot that you and God knows who else have been laughing at, watching me run all over town looking for someone? Is he even missing? Have you known where he was the whole time and I’m just some joke you kept stringing along?”

Oswald looked a little guilty at Jim’s words, but straightened up immediately, looking surprised and shaking his head. “Oh god no Jim, you’re not a joke. That’s not what this is at all!” His words sounded almost desperate, which took Jim a bit off guard, but not enough to stand down.

“I don’t have to take this,” Jim said, words quiet with emotion. With that, he turned and started to walk away. If he didn’t, he would end up doing something that he would regret, like punching Oswald in the nose.

He hadn’t made it more than a few steps before he heard Oswald call out for Gabe and before Jim really knew what was happening, Gabe was grabbing him around the waist and literally carrying him back into the club.

“What the hell!” Jim yelled, but he was back inside the back room of the club before he could do much else. The club was packed, but no one took any notice of them, everyone too distracted by the live band playing swing tunes.

He struggled, but Gabe was just as strong as he looked and before he knew it, he was being manhandled into a chair in Oswald’s office. Jim had to admit to himself that he was a little surprised that Gabe wasn’t even rougher with him, but as it was, he just placed him in the chair and kept a firm hand on his shoulder, ensuring that he stayed put. 

This didn’t stop Jim from continuing to struggle. Part of him wanted Oswald to explain himself, but mostly he just wanted to get the hell out of there so he could calm down. He knew he was riding on too many emotions, on too much hurt to think clearly and he’d only make things worse if he managed to deck Oswald.

“Now Jim, I’m going to need you to calm down,” Oswald said, standing in front of Jim and leaning against his desk. His tone was calm, and if Jim had been in any state to pay him attention, he would’ve noticed that Oswald appeared sad.

“Fuck you,” Jim spat.

Oswald sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose. “I’m sorry Jim, I really am, and I will explain, but I really need you to calm down first.”

Jim, knowing it was futile continuing to try and struggle against Gabe’s death grip, just hung his head. He was suddenly exhausted, all the fight running out of him. He felt stupid and weak and the last thing he felt like doing was listening to Oswald. God, how could he have been so stupid as to _trust_ this man.

Just then, there was a brief knock at the door before someone walked in. Jim did not look up to see who it was, didn’t care to.

“Thought I might be able to help,” the gruff voice of Carmine Falcone floated through the room. Jim just closed his eyes and sagged into the chair. This really couldn’t be good.

Jim could hear Oswald sigh and part of him was almost desperate to look back at the man, but he couldn’t bring himself to do it, too worried that he would suffer more humiliation by doing so. He was already going to have to explain to Ms. Kean about how he’d failed completely to find any trace of her brother. He was already making plans in his head to leave town when Oswald began to speak again.

“Jim,” Oswald started, voice soft, like he was worried he’d set the other man off again. He crouched down so he was more at level with Jim and with some hesitation, he reached out to touch the other man’s face. Jim jerked back at the touch, but Oswald at least succeeded in getting Jim to look at him again. “Please, let me explain.”

“Guess I don’t have much of a choice, do I?”

“Jim please, it’s not what you think.”

“Oh, so you didn’t know exactly where Peter was the whole time? You knew, you _knew_ who I was looking for, what I was working on and you had me running all over town! Did-did you get rid of him?” Jim’s voice faded on the last bit, almost physically unable to get the words out.

Oswald flinched, visibly hurt by the question. “You really think I could do that?” His voice was barely a whisper. Oswald stood up then and turned his back on Jim, unable to look at him for a moment.

“Maybe I can help,” Falcone said, suddenly stepping into Jim’s field of view. He gave Oswald a pat on the shoulder as the other man walked to the other side of the room, clearly upset with how events were playing out.

Jim glared at Falcone as he approached, but made no move to respond or even move. “You really shouldn’t take this out on Oswald. I asked him not to tell you.”

“And why the hell would you do that? What the hell is going on here? I’m getting seriously sick of being jerked around.” Jim couldn’t hold back his exasperation and anger anymore. This was all just too much.

“Because I was worried, I didn’t want you involved.”

“And what the hell do you care? We don’t know each other!” Jim was seriously starting to lose his patience, and if he didn’t get some answers soon, he was going to punch someone or something, Gabe be damned.

“That’s where you’re wrong. I know you don’t remember me, but I was very good friends with your father. And you must’ve found out about the money I gave your friend when you were younger.”

With those words, Jim shut his mouth. He’d wanted to keep fighting, but Falcone had successfully stunned him into silence.

“Your father came to me, after you and Matthew had been friends for about a year. He knew, about the two of you.”

“Knew? But nothing happened with us, we were just friends.” Jim was insistent, but he could also feel a blush creeping up his cheeks. He’d never really allowed himself to think about it, but if the chance had presented itself, something could’ve happened.

The expression on Falcone’s face softened. “We both know that’s not true and unfortunately so did some other, shall we say unsavoury, people. You’re father and I worked out a plan to try and get the two of you to safety. That we weren’t 100 percent successful is something that will haunt me for the rest of my life.”

Jim’s brow furrowed in confusion, but before he even had a chance to try and think of what to say, Oswald made his presence known again, though he still wouldn’t face Jim.

“I know you’re upset,” he began quietly. “But we do have an explanation for this. You may not want to hear it, but I think you should listen to what we have to say.”

With a deep sigh, Jim sagged back into his chair. “Fine, talk.” It wasn’t like he wasn’t curious, after all.


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jim finally gets all the answers he's been looking for and more than he ever could've expected when he first picked up this case.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, this is it. The final chapter and the end of the first multi-chapter fic I've ever managed to finish. The last few chapters don't really live up to what I had wanted at the outset, but I hope they're not too disappointing for you. So, I hope you've enjoyed and that the ending is okay. Endings, the hardest things to write. Thanks to everyone who's left kudos and comments and please feel free to leave more. Thanks!

“For more years than I care to admit, Oswald and I have been trying to take down a group lead by Sal Maroni, your friend’s father. Originally, they were just competition, but then I found out they had some new, much more sinister plans.

“My brother was gay,” Falcone continued. “We were very close, so when Maroni had him taken out because he doesn’t think gay people deserve to live, well our issues became far more than just some small time competition.

“I vowed then and there to make sure Maroni paid, but I had no idea how hard that would be to accomplish. Turns out that the police in this town, whether corrupt or not, couldn’t care less about a bunch of gay men going missing or turning up dead. So I decided to set up my own task force to take him down.

“You’re father was my partner on this from the beginning, but he became more serious about the cause when he saw how close you and Matthew had become. We weren’t sure at first, but thought it was better to be safe than sorry.”

Jim stayed quiet, not knowing what he’d say even if he’d wanted to try and interrupt the story. The whole thing was almost unbelievable, except that it made a lot about his childhood make more sense.

After a long, bloated silence, Jim finally spoke. “And where do you fit into all of this?” His words were quiet as he finally addressed Oswald. He still felt like he’d been betrayed, but after listening to Falcone, he had to at least hear the other man out.

There was another long silence as Oswald appeared to pull himself together. “A few years ago, I found myself in a rough situation that ended with me having this limp,” Oswald began, gesturing to his mangled knee. “A few of Maroni’s men got a tip about me, and weren’t about to stand for such scum in their presence. Before that, I’d been an errand boy for Maroni. He was _livid_ when he found out a ‘little faggot boy’ was working for him. He would’ve killed me if Falcone hadn’t shown up. I’ve been helping him out ever since.

“Now, I’ll be the first to admit that we don’t always use the most ethical ways to achieve our goals, but Jim, we’re like any other men. All we do is supply a demand. It’s just that in this case our only demand is to be able not live our lives in fear.”

Jim sighed deeply. He really didn’t know how to respond. It was clearly a noble endeavor, and one that he agreed wholeheartedly was necessary, especially now that he had more details, but he couldn’t help but wonder why he wasn’t trusted with this information earlier.

“So, how long have you known I was back in town?” Jim asked, a slight edge to his tone now as he addressed Falcone.

“A few weeks.” The words come matter-of-factly.

“So, what you’re saying is, you knew I was back in town before I even started working on the Kean case and _apparently_ you knew even before I did that I’m gay, and yet you still thought I couldn’t be trusted with any of this and instead, what? Paid Oswald to keep me out of the way? Make me look like an idiot in front of my first, and now likely only, client? Well if you’re plan was to get me out of town, consider yourselves winners because I’m done.” Jim stood, catching Gabe just enough off to jerk out of his grasp.

“You know, I might’ve actually been good at this job, and I would’ve loved to help out with your little operation here. Might’ve _even_ been able to get a few cops on your side, but instead you both decided to treat me like a child and ruin my reputation and my career. Now at best if I stay in Gotham I’ll be treated like a joke and never get another client, and at worst I’m going to get taken out by a homophobic gangster because I made a _stupid_ mistake and trusted someone. So congratulations boys, have a nice life.” 

With that, Jim turned and left, ignoring Oswald’s calls for him to wait.

***

The next morning found Jim going through the small amount of paperwork he actually had in his office. He had a bankers box out and was filing away what he thought he might need while throwing out what he was done with. He had lunch plans with Harvey, mostly to say goodbye, but other than that he planned on packing all his stuff and getting out of town as fast as possible. He’d already organized a storage facility for his bigger stuff so that he didn’t have to deal with anything that would keep him in Gotham longer than a few days.

Grumbling to himself, Jim hastily threw papers into the box as someone entered his office behind him without knocking. “What the -” Jim said as he turned, cutting off his words as he saw Barbara Kean standing there. He hadn’t seen her since her party when he’d rushed out without saying goodbye.

“Hello there Mr. Gordon,” Barbara sauntered further into the room, a strange little smirk on his face. “You’re not leaving are you? You haven’t found my brother yet.” She added a little pout to the smirk and there was a mischievous glint in her eyes, sarcasm bleeding from her tone. Jim gave her a confused look, thrown off by this new attitude.

“Ms. Kean,” Jim greeted cautiously. “I’m so sorry I didn’t get the chance to say goodbye the other night.” He stopped then and let out a slow breath before walking around to the other side of his desk and opening a drawer. He pulled an envelope out and walked back over to Barbara, handing it out to her. “Here’s your money back. I’m sorry I couldn’t find your brother.”

“Oh please Jim,” Barbara said, rolling her eyes as she snatched the envelope from his hands. “I think you’ll find that you a little more pressing things to worry about than your pathetic attempt at crime solving.”

Jim didn’t have time to respond before a gorilla of a man entered the room. The guy easily doubled the size of Gabe and Jim knew better than to even think about trying to fight him, especially when he pulled a gun on him. Jim’s hands immediately rose in surrender. “Don’t you think this is a little excessive? I mean, you got your money back,” Jim said to Barbara, though his eyes never left the giant blocking the entire doorway. Jim was not surprised when the man had to step sideways to enter his office.

“Oh Jimmy, I really had high hopes for you. I should’ve suspected that you were apart of Uncle Carmine’s little homo brigade the second you wouldn’t look twice at me. Still, I really did think that you’d be able to find my brother. He’s sick, you know. Needs psychiatric treatment so he can stop finding other men attractive. It’s just _gross_.”

The strange thing, in that moment, was that to Jim, it seemed more like Barbara was the one that needed some psychiatric treatment. Jim still felt stunned at the sudden turn in events. As if the night before hadn’t been bad enough. Now he had to deal with this, and quite honestly, he wasn’t quite sure how he was going to get out of it. Hell, he wasn’t sure he deserved to get out of it.

“Okay, enough talk, let’s go,” Barbara suddenly announced, snapping her fingers at her goon. With that, the goon grabbed Jim by the collar and in a motion quicker than he would’ve expected from a man his size, he cracked the handle of the gun across Jim’s temple. The world swam before Jim’s eyes before going dark.

***

A sharp slap cracked across Jim’s face, rocking him back into consciousness. His head rocked back and he winced as a bright light shone into his eyes as he attempted to crack them open. Jim was no stranger to a concussion, and he was damn sure he was experiencing one again now.

Jim tried to lift his hand to his head, wanting to pinch his nose, or rub his temples or whatever else one does when trying to aleviate a headache of epic proportions. This, however, proved very difficult when Jim found that he couldn’t move his arms. Confusion swept through his already clouded mind as it took him much longer than usual to realize that he was tied to a chair.

“Hit him again,” Barbara’s cold voice filtered through the haze in Jim’s head. “We don’t have all day.”

Another sharp crack ripped through Jim’s head before he was sucker punched in the stomach. A groan escaped his lips as he attempted to not throw up all over himself.

“Come on, Jimmy, open those big baby blues for me.” Barbara grabbed him by the chin and shook his head slightly. Jim opened his eyes in a squint, trying to clear the blurry image of the woman peering back at him.

“That’s better, now I have a few questions for you. You’re not an idiot. I know you must’ve found out something about the whereabouts of my wayward brother. You know I can’t let him just skate on this. He needs to be found, to be rehabilitated! You don’t know how annoying it is that you’re my current best hope.”

Jim just glared at her in return. It was going to take a lot more than a beating to get him to give up information of that sort. He might as well kill the guy himself if he told her anything.

“Okay, maybe I was wrong,” Barbara said, glaring back at him. “You know I don’t care what happens to you here, right? You’re the fastest way to the information I want, but not the only way. I suggest you start talking.”

Jim looked her right in the eye and smirked.

“Fine, we’ll play it your way. This should be fun,” she said curtly. With a small gesture of her head, she motioned to Jim and within seconds the Gorilla was on him, landing more punches to his prone figure than he’d ever be able to count.

After either a minute or an hour, Jim couldn’t tell, the Gorilla backed off again.

“Jim, Jim, Jim,” Barbara made a tutting noise as if she were about to scold a school child. “You have to know that not talking to me isn’t worth all this. I mean, nothing someone like you do is really worth anything. Everything you do is tainted. This is unfortunately true of my brother as well, but I have hope for him. Sal Maroni has a plan. He’s a smart man and has many friends in high places. He’s got a doctor friend that has the latest cures for your little perversion. He’s got a spot in his next treatment session for my brother. And if you hadn’t been such an idiot and found him, I would’ve gotten you into the treatment as well. Now I’m just going to have to kill you when I get everything I need from you.”

On some level, the moment Barbara had shown up with the Gorilla at his office, he’d known that she must be working with Maroni in some way, but somehow hearing her say it, having that one small but strong piece of information letting him know just how far off he’d been on the case made him feel so much worse than any of the punches that had landed on him so far.

“If only I’d been smarter when I’d first caught my brother kissing another man,” Barbara continued, barely containing a shudder of revulsion as she remembered the incident. “If I’d paid closer attention and gone to Maroni sooner, then maybe Falcone wouldn’t have gotten to him first. Oh well, we’ll get them eventually.”

Barbara must have motioned to the Gorilla again because the next thing he knew, he was taking another punch to the face. Jim’s ears were ringing and he could feel blood trickle down from the corner of his mouth. He spit off to the side, hoping he hit somewhere at least near Barbara, but one of his eyes was now swollen shut and the other was blurry at best.

After that, he could barely feel any of the punches that landed, that was until someone kicked him hard in the leg and he felt a sharp pain shoot from his left knee straight up to his hip. His vision whited out with the pain and he couldn’t help but wonder if he’d ever walk right again.

Oswald’s face swam into his mind’s eye then and he suddenly knew how stupid he’d been for not listening to Oswald and Falcone back at the club. He should’ve put his stupid pride away and just listened to them, he should’ve given Oswald a chance to explain. He’d never given him any reason not to trust him before that, so it only made sense that he at least be given a chance to explain why he’d lied.

Another kick connected with the same spot on his leg, rocketing Jim out of his thoughts with a scream of pain and anguish. He was so close to breaking, a tear escaping from the corner of his swollen eye as he tried to hold onto the knowledge that whether he tells them anything or not, he’s going to die right here in this very spot.

He’s just about given into the thought, his mind trying to come to terms with the likelihood of his death when a calm came over him. Just then, a loud bang from somewhere outside the room they’re in rang out.

“What the hell was that?” Barbara’s voice reached his ears sounding annoyed. Clearly whatever was happening outside the room wasn’t a part of her plans.

The Gorilla went to the door, his hand on the gun on his right hip as he listened for a second, trying to gauge exactly what was going on outside the door. Jim’s not really sure what happened next, but the best he can piece together is that the door slammed open as he was trying to listen at it and the edge of the door caught him in the head as it slammed open. 

Jim could swear that he felt the ground shake as the man hit the floor with a dull thud, the impact of the door knocking him out cold. Jim tried to look towards the door, tried to focus on it with his good eye (well, his better eye. He wouldn’t deem his vision to be good at all in that moment), but each movement of his head caused the room to spin, making him nauseated. He stopped trying to move at all then and instead hung his head, opting to take deep breaths instead.

Barbara made a loud screeching noise then, a sound that ripped through Jim’s head like a chainsaw and he winced. Clearly she wasn’t happy with the way her plans were going currently, but did she have to do that?

“I should’ve known you were behind this.” Falcone’s voice floated through the room sounding angry, and though Jim might think he was hallucinating this part later, he could swear the older man also sounded hurt.

“Should’ve, but didn’t,” Barbara replied. “Have to admit though, I’m surprised an old fink like you managed to figure out anything at all.” She laughed then, but there was nothing good about it.

It was about that time that Jim heard other people start to enter the room. He was drifting in and out of consciousness, but he was vaguely aware of Barbara putting up a struggle as she was escorted out of the room. The next thing he knew, he felt a gentle hand on his cheek. He struggled to open his right eye, his left now fully swollen shut. The blurry image of black spikey hair and a pale, pointy nose swam in his vision.

“Oswald? Are you okay?” Jim slurred, blinking rapidly as he tried to clear his vision.

There was a snort of soft laughter tinged with tears. “Yes Jim, I’m fine.”

***

The next few hours flew by in minutes to Jim. Flashes of people and too bright lights separated only by long periods of black. He felt numb when he could feel at all. Mostly he took in blurs of colour in lab coats, but every once in awhile he’d swear he recognized someone. At one point he could swear he saw Bullock hovering over him, looking about as worried as Harvey could be. He hoped he’d remember to ask someone if that really happened after he was a little more lucid.

Whether it was minutes or hours or days before Jim started to recognize the world around him again, he couldn’t be sure, but it felt like a lifetime. He moaned softly as his first real dose of reality was the throbbing of his head.

“He’s awake, someone grab a nurse.”

Jim wasn’t quite sure who had spoken, but within seconds he felt a thin, familiar hand gripping his own. “James Gordon, you scared the life out of me,” Oswald’s voice whispered into his ear. He felt soft lips kiss the side of his head and he sighed, feeling comforted by it and by Oswald’s presence.

A nurse came into the room then and started looking at his charts and giving him a check over. “How are you doing, Mr. Gordon?” The young nurse was pleasant and sounded suitably concerned.

“Hurts,” Jim managed, still unable to keep his good eye open for longer than a few seconds at a time.

“Okay, I’ll talk to the doctor about getting you some more painkillers. I’ll be right back.”

Someone dimmed the lights in the room then, and Jim could’ve kissed whoever performed that miracle. Oswald was at his side again once the nurse was gone.

“What happened?” Jim asked, his words slow and whispered, like it hurt him to think. 

“What do you remember?” Jim looked up at that and managed to make out Falcone standing in the corner. Jim looked passed him them and saw Harvey standing nearby.

“Bullock. So I wasn’t hallucinating.” The statement caused Harvey to chuckle.

Jim turned back to Oswald then and gave him a sad smile, or at least what he hoped was something at least close to that. He couldn’t quite move his face properly. “I remember fighting with you. Threatening to leave. Was leaving, packing my stuff when Ms. Kean showed up with her gorilla. He’s a strong gorilla.”

Oswald chuckled softly and brushed Jim’s hair off his forehead. “He certainly was.”

“I’m so sorry,” Jim said then, feeling dangerously close to tears. Getting the shit kicked out of you and ending up feeling next to death in the hospital had a way of bringing things into perspective.

“No Jim, I’m the one who should apologize. We should’ve let you know what was going on earlier. You had every right to be upset.” There was no doubt now that Oswald was trying not to cry himself.

Harvey cleared his throat then, never one to be good with emotions. “So, uh, Falcone here had spies in the Kean house. They reported in when a few of them saw that gorilla fella bring you into the house clearly not of your own volition. Then these two came and got me, I got a few of the officers together for back up, and bingo bango, we saved your ass.”

Jim would roll his eyes if he could, but really he was just thankful that they had shown up. “But how did you know to contact Bullock?” Jim asked, turning his attention to Falcone.

“I’ve been keeping tabs on you since you first left Gotham. I had a deal with your father that I would keep you safe. I have to tell you that more than a few of my men were fired when I found out you’d shown back up in Gotham and I hadn’t been told. Had I known, Barbara would never had gotten to you and you never would’ve been working this case at all.”

“So you knew about her?”

“I had an idea, that’s why Oswald and I got Peter out of town. I originally set my men up in their home to get enough information on Barbara to hopefully get her put away and bring Peter home again, which I suppose we were successful at, just not in the way I had intended.”

“So what happens now?” Jim asked then. He was starting to feel really groggy again, but he wasn’t ready to leave this just yet.

“Well, Ms. Kean has been arrested, though with a family like hers, she’ll likely make bail. Still, she was caught red handed helping to beat and torture one of Gotham’s citizens so hopefully she goes down for that,” Bullock reported.

“Hopefully?” Jim said, attempting to look skeptical.

“Hopefully. She’s rich and belongs to one of the most prominent families in town. We just don’t know what will happen.”

“But her brother is rich and apart of that family too,” Jim asked, obviously concerned now.

Harvey just shrugged in response. It was Oswald who spoke next.

“That’s true Jim,” he said, sadly. “But he’s gay and that’s just not okay to most of the people in this town.”

Jim sighed and rested his head back against his pillow, suddenly feeling very sad and tired. He felt Oswald kiss his head again and he leaned into it, wanting more touch, but feeling too exhausted to do anything about it. Oswald seemed to sense this as he took Jim’s left hand and held it, giving it a gentle squeeze.

“We should let you get some sleep,” Oswald said quietly, giving him a soft smile.

Jim nodded. “Will you be here when I wake up?”

“Of course,” Oswald replied, his smile widening. “I’ll be here for as long as you want me.”

Before Jim fell back asleep, he wondered if Oswald knew that that was forever.


End file.
